


Punch Drunk

by perfectlyrose



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Drunkenness, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 07:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2842634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectlyrose/pseuds/perfectlyrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ginger has an interesting effect on Time Lords. It inhibits their ability to metabolize alcohol. Rose finds this out accidentally but takes full advantage of the situation. (Ten/Rose, canon verse)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Punch Drunk

**Author's Note:**

> Christmas present for badwolfrun over on tumblr. Found out the information about the ginger and really could not help myself!

Rose and the Doctor were curled up on opposite ends of the couch in the library, giggling.

“I can’t believe you told him that he tasted like sage,” Rose said, doubling over while still clutching her glass of punch.

They had decided to spend the night in the library just chatting and Rose had determined that a bowl of punch was in order since the Doctor had gotten them chased out of the party before she could try theirs.

“He did though! I thought he might want to know!” The Doctor protested. “Sage is a very respectable spice. Spice? Herb?"

“Don’t look at me. You know ‘m a disaster in the kitchen.”

He nodded in agreement. “But you make brilliant drinks,” he said saluting her with said drink.

“Had lots of practice,” Rose replied cheerfully. “Not that you would know Mister ‘Time Lords Don’t Drink.’”

The Doctor sputtered. “I never said I don’t _drink_ , I said I don’t get drunk. There’s a difference. I can just metabolize alcohol more quickly than you.” He smirked at her and stuck his leg out to burrow his foot under her leg, making her squeal from the temperature differential.

He had specifically never imparted the information that he technically could get drunk with her by choosing not to metabolize the alcohol. The Doctor was almost certain enough to bet his coat on the fact that Rose would flutter her eyelashes at him, give him the _look_ , and tell him “it’s just one time Doctor, please” and he would give in like he always did.

He had a hard ( _oh bad word choice_ , he thought, wincing) enough time as it was controlling his responses around her when completely sober. No need to find out exactly how much he would say or reveal if alcohol was added to the mix.

“So you say,” Rose answered, trying to suppress a smile. “So far it seems like I’ve been holding my liquor better than you tonight.”

The Doctor stuck his tongue out at her (putting all sorts of ideas about his tongue in the front of her slightly tipsy mind) and drained his drink.

“I believe, Rose Tyler, that I am a drink ahead of you right now.” He ladled more punch from the bowl on the coffee table into his glass.

“And showing it,” she tossed back as he landed back on the couch rather more heavily than he apparently intended. “You’re getting smashed, Doctor. Just admit that your superior physi-” she paused, screwing up her face as she tried to get the word out, “physiology has failed you for the night.”

“Impossible!”

“You keep sayin’ that like it means something,” came the cheeky response.

The Doctor zeroed in on the tongue she had perched between her teeth. It would be so easy to just lean forward and capture her mouth with his own. So easy to just push her back against the arm of the sofa as he learned what the punch tasted like secondhand.

He realized that his thoughts were going down roads that he usually tried to avoid while still in the same room as Rose. (He’d given up long ago on suppressing them completely.) Quickly, he tried to jumpstart his metabolism to neutralize the alcohol. Rose was right, it was definitely affecting him.

Rose watched with amusement and a bit of concern as a look of horror dawned on his face. “What’s wrong, Doctor?”

“Rose, did you happen to use anything with ginger in it when you made the punch?”

“Well, yeah. Used ginger ale.” She saw his panicked look and paled. “Oh my god, you’re not allergic to ginger are you? I thought it was only aspirin. I didn’t know, oh god. Med bay?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” he said dramatically, running a hand through his hair.

“Then what? What’s the fuss about ginger?”

“It prevents me from metabolizing alcohol,” he admitted after a few seconds of silence.

Rose looked at him blankly.

“In other words, I can get drunk as easily as you can tonight.”

His blonde companion blinked slowly as she processed this information and then a Cheshire cat grin spread across her face and it crossed the Doctor’s mind that he might have a right to be terrified.

“Oh, this is going to be fun. Cheers!” Rose clinked her glass against his and drained her punch.

“What the hell,” he muttered, draining his as well. Might as well go all in at this point.

A few drinks later the pair was lost to a fit of giggling. They were no longer on opposite ends of the sofa. Rose had migrated to the Doctor’s side and was muffling her giggles in his shirt.

Finally gaining a bit of control, she leaned back to shoot him another tongue-touched grin.

There was no pretense of trying to resist this time. The Doctor leaned forwards and swiftly angled his mouth over hers, capturing the taunting pink muscle.

Rose wasted no time in responding and they spent several long moments lost to the glide of lips and the play of tongues. She finally had to pull back to draw a breath and realized that she had managed to straddle the Doctor while they’d been snogging.

She looked down at him, already deliciously rumpled, and rocked her hips forward. The movement elicited a whimper from the Time Lord and a smirk from the human.

She claimed his mouth again as she started learning all the ways to enjoy her drunk Doctor, sending a mental thank you to the TARDIS who had put the ginger ale out on the counter for her to use earlier.


End file.
